Sherlock meets Caffeine
by RedheadedDancer
Summary: Sherlock accidentally samples some of John's coffee and much calamity ensues


Sherlock makes a new friend: Caffeine

"Jawwwwwwwwwnnnnnnnnnn" I heard a shrill wail coming from the other side of the flat, barely glancing up from the daily paper I sigh. "What is it now Sherlock?" Anyone else would have been concerned at his tone, but I'm used to it, you understand. After all, I do live with the man. You'd think that he'd accidentally stabbed himself or something, but he probably just wants to inform me that we have run out of milk (which I know- I used it up myself this time..)

"This new tea you've brought doesn't taste like tea at all, what is it?" Sherlock whines. I furrow my brow.. _what _new tea? I always buy the same types, Earl Grey for Sherlock and Yorkshire Tea for me. The sound of Sherlock's quick shuffle gets my attention and I look up to see him shaking slightly, holding a cup in his hand and the unmistakeable smell of... "Sherlock.." I say slowly "That isn't tea..." he did not appear to be very surprised at this information, or otherwise worried. "Well then, what is it? I do rather enjoy it!" well that was it, my worst fears confirmed. It was caffeine and he enjoyed it. Joy.

"It's coffee, Sherlock. Harriet gave me some because she didn't realise..." but before I could finish, he was already interupting me "Harriet? Who is Harriet? Not another date, John, I keep telling you that none of these women are any good! Was she that stalker?" he barely paused for breath, meaning I couldn't tell if he was on a caffeine high, or just being his usual self. "Harriet was my _last _date, Sherlock. Remember? The one who you scared away as I neglected to warn her of your.. abilities." I explained, using a tone one would use to talk to a child. He looked perplexed for a moment, before a look of sudden realisation passed him "Ahh yes! I do remember! She was the ex prostitute, yes I remember it very clearly now." he declared, proudly.

I notice that his shaking has increased considerably, and is now almost hopping from one foot to the other "Errr Sherlock, how much of that have you had?" noting that he is using the largest mug in the cupboard. "I think I've had.. I've had abouuuuuuuuuuuuuut three? Yes, yes. I've had three cups and it is absolutely delightful, I want more, John. So I think I am going to make myself another." I cringe. Three cups is enough to send me with the jitters, god forbid what that would do a man like Sherlock and then realise that he is serious as he bounds off to the kitchen, robe flapping behind him and I quickly follow suit. "NO. Sherlock, you CAN'T have anymore." I growl as I snatch the glass container of coffee, firmly placing myself between him and the kettle.

The look that crosses his face is not human, it is one that I have seen before, however. It's that look he gives me when I refuse to sucumb to his nicotine addiction and surrender his cigarettes, and in that instant he looks ready to kill. "John" he says through gritted teeth "Give. Me. The. _Coffee." _I swallow, and stand my ground. I've been in Afghanistan, for God's sake. I've patched up men with limbs missing crying out for their mothers, I'm pretty certain I can deal with a neurotic thirty sometihng male with a coffee craving. He stares menacingly at me for a few long moments before grinning scarily. I'm not sure which scared me more, him giving me death stares or that evil grin which can only mean one thing, that he has a plan.

"Never mind John.. I'll live without it." he smirks, cocking his head. I frown at him again and look at him in the eye. His eyes scream mischief, and I know he's up to something but _what. _I go back to my newspaper and shake my head. You'd have to be a madman to put up with him on a daily basis. Fortunately for him, I am very mad. My ears prick up as I hear the door click as it opens and I swiftly turn to find Sherlock standing there, one hand on the handle and the other still quivering at his side. "Going somewhere, Sherlock?" I query, raising an eyebrow. "I... I... I have to go now bye!" he gabbles quickly as he rips the door open and slams it behind him in a heartbeat. I leap up as fast as my reactions allow me, just as I hear a suspicious locking sound and then the sound of Sherlock's feet tearing down the stairs. _Oh bugger. _My eyes dart to where I had left my keys, on the kitchen counter. To my horror, they are no longer there, and I know that he doesn't have a set of his own and I don't even have a spare set! The only other person who will have a set is.. Mrs Hudson! I start banging on the door and yelling her name before vaguely remembering her saying that she was visiting a friend and she would be out most of the afternoon but be back by 4. I look at my watch, only three o clock, and groan before sliding to the floor in despair. After about five minutes, my phone beeps, I sullenly flip it out of my phone to see what sod has messaged me now. I'm surprised to discover the text is from Lestrade ("Why does everybody keep calling you Greg?"), he has my number, but he doesn't often text it unless he urgently needs my attention, I open it and read "Sherlock is running around like a teenager on crack, should I be worried?" and I grimace. Lord knows what he has going on in his hyperactive head of his.. I text back "Depends on your definition of worried, he has recently discovered caffeine for the first time." within a matter of seconds he has replied "Oh god, I'd better get armed response out. He's just walked out of Tescos with a bulging bag which I highly suspect is full of coffee."

My eyes widen and I wonder what he is planning on doing with all of this caffeine, I'm perfectly willing to bet a month's wages that he isn't going to come back here anytime soon so I text Lestrade for a solution "Alright mate, this is bad. Come and get me out of the house, Sherlock has locked me in and has the only set of keys." and he promptly replies "On my way to yours, just seen Mrs H and explained the situation and now have the keys to the flat. Be prepared to locate Sherlock when I get you, though." Within minutes I hear a screetch of brakes as Lestrade parks his car hurridly and bashes it shut behind him whilst running towards the house and up the stairs "GRAB YOUR COAT, JOHN. YOU'VE PULLED" he jokes as he unlocks the door to let me out and I roll my eyes as he laughs at his own excuse for a joke. We're sitting in his car when my phone begins to ring, this time not a text, but a phonecall. I look at the caller ID- Mrs Hudson. "What could she want?" I mutter, and answer anyway. "JOHN. IT'S SHERLOCK" and my heart lurches, has he run into the 99 bus? "HE'S IN THE CAFE, BERATING THE POOR BARISTA" and I relay this to Lestrade.

We arrive just in time to see Sherlock barging his way past the young lady and attempt to boil the kettle. "Ah, John. You're just in time for a cup of coffee! How do you take yours?" He is still dressed in his shabby pyjamas and robe, undone at the front and has _my _shoes on and in that instant, I am pretty certain that everybody in the coffee shop thinks he is a lunatic on the run from an asylum, and that Lestrade and I are his wardens.


End file.
